The New Judge
by AquilaTempestas
Summary: Oliver's art class is back, but Robert won't be the one judging this time. Who will take over? Sequel to 'Oliver's Art Class'


**Disclaimer**

The rights to Beyblade belong to Takao Aoki.

**Title**

The New Judge

**Summary**

Oliver's art class is back, but Robert won't be the one judging this time. Who will take over?

**Special Thanks**

Special thanks to everyone who reviewed the original, 'Oliver's Art Class'. I hope you like the sequel! If you haven't read the original, check it out before reading this.

**.**

Things were just a little more than tense than usual at Robert's castle. Johnny had locked himself up in his room crying about 'a nasty German with a big nose' while Enrique was busy sulking. His girlfriends had dumped him; they did not like his painting of a pineapple. Oliver really wanted to comfort them both, to say nice words to lift their self-esteem, but Robert would not allow it.

"Robert, you hurt their feelings," Oliver said, giving Robert an accusing glare.

Robert shook his head, then leaned back in his chair, placing his feet on the table. It was very un-Robert like... but the table was bought by Johnny as a gift so he didn't care if he made it dirty. "Their paintings were horrible! They will forever be locked away in the Hall of Shame!" he said.

"I hope you're not so mean to the next group of students."

"I will not be judging the paintings today. I am playing a game of blackjack down at the casino later with Brooklyn. Someone else will take my place for the judging," Robert replied, removing his feet from the table. He glanced around the chair and added, "He is a very strict judge. Even tougher than I am. I hope your lousy students are less lousy than the last set. Who do you have anyway?"

Oliver reached down into the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a list. Once again, there were five students in his class. Tala, Tyson, Max, Mystel and Michael. The numbers were low, but people were probably too scared to have their paintings thrown into the Hall of Shame. He wondered if this group would fare any better with the judging panel. "Well, I hope you have fun. See you later then." Robert muttered a 'goodbye' as Oliver raced to his blimp. Why drive when you can fly?

_Later that day..._

All five students smiled as Oliver entered the classroom, their paintbrushes ready to express their creativity. Oliver smiled in return, "Hello everyone! I'm glad you could make it today. You can use any colour you want. Be creative and don't be afraid to use your imagination," he said.

The students all cheered and immediately started to paint. Oliver gave them at least five minutes, before he started his usual 'walk around the class and examine the paintings' routine. He first visited Tyson. Tyson was busy dabbing his brush into the paints and throwing it at the paper. "What are you painting, Tyson?" Oliver said, peering over his shoulder, examining Tyson's masterpiece.

Tyson grinned, "It's a painting of me winning the beyblade cup for the third time!" he declared, pointing at a mass of random blobs. Oliver assumed the red, yellow and grey blob was Tyson, while the strange mix of brown and yellow resembled the trophy.

"It was truly beautiful, Tyson."

"Thanks, Oliver. I love painting."

Oliver moved away from Tyson and onto Max. Max was a little less excited than Tyson, but he was still making a mess. Various blobs of random colours were present on the paper and on his skin. "I'm painting my family. This is mum," he said, pointing to the tall yellow line, "and this is dad," he added, pointing to the brown line standing next to Judy, "and this is me," he said, pointing to the small yellow line standing in between the two taller lines.

Oliver gushed. "That is very sweet. You have a nice family."

"I know, right?" Max replied, giving Oliver a big wide smile.

Now it was time to visit Tala. Oliver wondered if he would show the same amount of talent his teammates Bryan and Kai had shown in their class. The red head Russian was cackling to himself, as he stabbed the paper with his brush. "What is that you are painting?"

Tala smirked, "This is me." Oliver really couldn't see the resemblance. Tala didn't have rippling, bulging muscles nor did he have a defined six pack, but he did at least get the hair right. "I'm so sexy."

"The resemblance is striking," Oliver commented. With time and dedicated training, Tala could probably be like the person he painted. He decided to move on to the fourth student. Michael. The American captain seemed a little unsure of the paintbrush in his hand, as if he didn't know what to do with it. Just as Oliver was ready to go and help, Michael started to paint. Must be in deep concentration mode, Oliver thought.

Michael's painting was of a big bird. It looked like a chicken, but Oliver assumed it was meant to be his bitbeast, Trygle. "Magnifique!" Oliver said, gushing at the sight of the chicken.

"It's great, isn't it? I didn't realize painting could be this fun!"

"I am glad you are enjoying it."

Now he moved over to the last student, Mystel. The blond seemed to be having a good time attacking the paper with his brush. "What did you paint?" Oliver asked, glancing over. He couldn't really quite see anything other than a mass mix of colours in the shape of a circle.

"Destruction!"

Oliver wasn't sure where the connection was, but he did like the way Mystel mixed the colours. "Good job! I'm sure the judge will be happy."

"Will Robert be judging?" Tyson asked, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

Oliver shook his head. "No, someone else is. I'm not sure who the person is though, but I guess we will find out very soon... oh, here they come!" All the students looked to the door with eager anticipation, wondering who the judge would be. Oliver hoped it was someone nice, like Gramps or Stanley, but Robert's warning came back to him. Who could be colder than Robert when it came to judging painting?

The person entered the room.

One of the students, Max, screamed. Tyson almost fell out of his chair. The other three simply stared, speechless. Even Oliver found it hard to speak, but he knew he had to greet the judge. "Hello, Boris."

Boris stormed over to the front desk and glared at the students. "I'm here to judge paintings."

"Er, yes. I hope you find them to your liking, they are quite a talented group," Oliver said, hoping Boris would get the hint and be nice. But this was Boris, he wasn't a nice man, unless he was talking to the ladies.

Boris walked over to Tala first, and examined the painting with close scrutiny. "You foolish child, you do not look anything like that! You are skinny and weak. Do not try to boost your low self-esteem with wishful portrayals like this!"

Tala cowered under Boris' glare. Boris was really mean.

Next, Boris visited Max. "Your painting is stupid, child. Your family is broken; do you think this painting will bring them back together? Your parents would be ashamed of this piece. This painting must go to the Hall of Shame immediately!" he announced. Max sniffed, bit his bottom lip, then ran out of the room in tears.

Tyson was next. "Ah, the beyblading champion." Boris brought his face close to the painting and drew back immediately. "This proves it – you have no other talent other than blading. What is this meant to be?"

"Me winning the trophy," Tyson squeaked.

"Wrong! It is a painting of stupidity! Throw it away!"

Tyson buried his face in his hands, trying his hardest not to cry. He was going to give it to Hilary to hang up on her wall...

Michael watched Boris with wide eyes as the purple haired man stormed over, a glare on his face. Boris looked at the painting and laughed, "Your bitbeast I assume? This is an accurate painting... your pathetic bitbeast is a chicken!" Michael really wanted to argue back, but this was Boris, so he decided to hold his tongue and sob to himself instead.

Finally, Boris visited Mystel. Boris didn't have high hopes for the idiotic blond. He glanced down at the painting and almost gave himself a mental high five. He was, as usual, correct. The blond was an idiot. "What is this?"

"Destruction!"

"You are wrong. This is," Boris ripped the painting of its board and tore it apart with his hands, throwing the remains onto the ground, "destruction!" He then crushed the paper under his shoes while Mystel looked on in horror. "You are all pathetic! I will have these fools brought to the Hall of Shame so everyone will know what terrible painters they are!"

Oliver wanted to come to the defence of his painters, but nothing came to mind. He could only watch in helplessness as some of Boris' guards entered the room to take the students away. Robert was correct – he was quite nice in comparison to Boris. "I hope I never see Boris again," Oliver thought darkly. No one deserved to have their hard work destroyed like that. I'm going to save what I can from the Hall of Shame... hey, maybe I'll buy them all!"

And Oliver exited the room.

He would save every painting he could.

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I hope you enjoyed this. As always, reviews are much appreciated!


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